People Share The Moment They Were Inspired To Get Revenge

There are people who just know how to get revenge. They are well-read in the art of plotting and pulling off a shrewd plan of retaliation in the face or adversity. You hurt me, so I”m going to find your weakness and get you back. These stories stem from the other party acting badly. Like, really badly. Employer’s committing fraud, neighbors maiming a dog, a significant other lying and cheating…the list goes on. The revenge part comes into play when the person decides they don’t want to stand for being treated like crap. They use this moment of pain to find inspiration and launch an attack. Read on for some juicy stories that will tickle your revenge bone!

19. Try To Tell Me You Don’t Reach Into Toilets? Your Bill Is In The Mail, Jerk

“I own and manage several mid-size multi-family rental properties (apartment blocks). I’m very hands-on, and I deal with most day to day issues as well as the investment side. Great returns this way.
I choose most of the tenants personally, and most of them are great people – they appreciate my hands-on work and the fact I love my job and strive to provide the customer service that a good hotel would.

There are some exceptions. One of my tenants is a charming young woman with a good job, friendly and easygoing demeanor, and a total ********** boyfriend. It was a six-month battle to get him on the lease since he lives there full-time now and from what I see, doesn’t contribute to rent. Not my problem though.

Until, I get a call from him, politely (odd, he’s not usually polite) saying he clogged the toilet and asks if I can call a plumber or fix it before his girlfriend gets home.

Happy that he is being polite, I went on over and was there in 20 minutes. It turned out he had dropped a bottle of hair gel into the bowl, and for some reason flushed it. It was jammed in the P-trap of the bowl, just out of sight but within reach.
I got on my elbow-gloves, reached in, and pulled it out. He stood watching me with this ******* steve smirk on his face. I suggested that next time he just reach in and grab it himself before calling me.

He looked me dead in the eye and said “I don’t reach into toilets dude, I’m going to school so I don’t have to touch other people’s ***.”
I* told him “You’d be surprised how much that pays though – your bill will be in the mail.”
I went home, called three plumbing contractors, and asked them each what their emergency service rate was. The average was $180.00 for the first 45 minutes flat. I sent a bill to the scum-bag tenant for $180.00.

He refused to pay, I filed a dispute at the tenancy office and included in my evidence the three quotes I had received. I got my judgment today – $180.00 plus the $50 filing fee.

A landlord is allowed to charge market rate to repair the damage that a tenant causes intentionally or through negligence. Now he knows that. Next time he will reach into the toilet himself.
All he had to do was keep his dumb mouth shut and I would have fixed his problem for free…” Reddit User

18. I Didn’t Do What My Crooked Boss Wanted And I Ended Up With His Job

“I was working for an advertising agency, a pretty big one I had an unethical manager.

Well, when I started out I had a manager who was one of the most unethical managers I’ve ever dealt with. He’d order his sales reps to do things that would increase his bonuses (which are based on margins). For example, say a client decided to buy product XYZ and their spending was $2,000 a month he would want the agent to put up products ABC and keep the spend at $2,000 even though the client didn’t agree to that.

The fact is the clients generally wouldn’t “notice” but if they did…it could cost you your job.

I was the guy who refused his demands, he would tell me to cheat the client and I would refuse. He would get mad. I wouldn’t care.

This went on for quite a while. Now there is something I don’t tell people very often…I live in a one-party consent state which means so long as I’m aware a conversation is being recorded I can record it without informing the other party.

I had just upsold my largest client making him even larger…but I didn’t sell the products my boss wanted me to sell. He demanded I switch things around…I refused. I told him I sold the client XYZ that’s what we agreed to, I’m not going change that without the customer’s permission.

His exact words were:
“**** the customer, this is your largest client. I need him on ABC or I’m not going make my number.”
“I’m sorry, but you and I both know ABC isn’t right for this client and that’s why he didn’t buy it.”
“You’re fired if you can’t follow instructions… you’re fired.”
After confirming he was dead serious I said “If you do that, I’ll have your job by the end of the month.”

I went home, I didn’t think he’d go through with it.

Sure as **** next morning I’m locked out of all our systems. I call tech support and get told I’ve been fired. So who do I call?

I call our Regional Vice President and tell him I have several recordings I think he should listen to. Remember my boss ordering me to do unethical things wasn’t uncommon. So I meet up with my RVP and play 6 different recordings that I had saved showing my manager was pushing his agents to break the law.

To which my RVP leaned back in his chair, and let out a sigh knowing he had to fire my manager…having a sales manager that is forcing his reps to break the law is just bad business. At which point I asked for my job back.

He agreed that I would get my job back and asked me to take the week off and call him on Monday. He told me he’d talk to payroll and make sure I got paid for this week as well.

FYI he fulfilled all of his promises with me…although I missed a payday but got back pay later so I was fine with that.

That Monday I come into our Monday morning meeting in which my RVP was there, he informed the entire team that my boss had been fired and why. He also mentioned that if anyone wanted to apply for his job there was now an opening.

So I applied for and after 3 rounds of interviews got my promotion! Sure as **** I was right, I did have my bosses job by the end of the month.

It was glorious the first day walking into his office and sitting in his nice big comfy chair.” appsarecoolio 

17. You Want Me To Cut Corner So You Can Make Your Bonus? I Absolutely Refuse

“This is the story about how I resigned from my warehouse job once and for all.

The company I used to work for implemented a new way of paying management commissions and bonuses… It was a “money saved, money paid’ type thing… Every little thing had a bonus attached to it.

This month you saved on stationary? Here’s $100. Didn’t spend any money to repair the store in any way? Here’s $500 Normally this wouldn’t effect us… but there were a few categories that were outright dangerous and unfortunately had the biggest bonuses attached to them.

It started with the Manager and Area Manager wanting us to change light panelings in the store.

There were a few problems with this – – the lights were so old… that the wiring was faulty and unpredictable – the way the lights were rigged would require you to have training as an electrician to remove the panels and replace the bulbs.

Management was hoping that we would undertake the work, saving costs on hiring a professional electrician and thus receiving a hefty bonus.

I outright refused… but a few of my offsiders were roped into it. After one particular incident of a worker receiving a mild shock… we all banded together and said “no ******* way.”

A week later, we were emailed a link to a new online training course. The main theme? Warehouse employees were to undertake various maintenance tasks… and the main one? Changing lights, light panels, etc.

If we didn’t complete this training? Then we would be unsuitable employees, not meet our hiring requirements, and could “possibly” be terminated. I set about taking screenshots of everything, including the mandatory tests.

It became evident very quickly that I was one of the only employees who had refused to complete the training and was confronted by the Area Manager… who said I had a week to complete the training or I’d be written up with an official warning.

And because of the severity of the warning could face disciplinary action and possible immediate termination.
Now… what Management didn’t count on was anyone sharing this information with outsiders.

I put together a nice packet, with all the new tests/training that would force warehouse employees to do dangerous tasks, but also copies of the new management bonus structure where it explicitly had categories that detailed if employees could do instore repairs and save the company $$$ they’d receive a hefty bonus.

There was even an award for the most money saved.

I also made sure to include the copious amount of emails and texts, showing that Management was violating a lot of health and safety guidelines… especially with the lack of warehouse staff to safely unload/load trucks and shipping containers.

And one of the worst things I found, was on page 36 of our contracts which stated that we weren’t officially covered to unload transfers and trucks… that the company would hire professional contractors to unload and it was up to us to take over once goods were safely unloaded.

Why?????

Because the company didn’t want to cover us medically if we injured ourselves unloading. It was an oversight on all our behalves… but shocking nevertheless.

I checked in with my best friend (a lawyer) who helped me navigate any nondisclosure issues and who pointed me in the right direction with sending off this information. Once I had sent everything off, everything went back to normal for a while. Management kept pressuring me into signing off on undertaking dangerous tasks to make their bonuses and I refused.

It all came to a head when the Area manager essentially said – you don’t sign off on this next shift, I’ll fire you on the spot. No matter how much I pleaded my case, The AM tried to spin it as a new company wife initiative, and that we should take pride in our workplace.

What a load of ***!!!

*I struggled with this a lot and didn’t know what to expected when I got off the bus and made my way to the store the next morning.

When I walked in ready for my next shift, the store was essentially deserted. I opened the warehouse, checked the transfer sheets, and then grabbed my water bottle, and headed into the store to fill it up.

As I was standing by the water filter, the customer service manager came downstairs with this cheeky smile on his face.

Apparently, the Manager was under close review and was currently in mediation having to answer for all the ******** corners she had cut to make her bonuses.

The best bit? The Area Manager and General Manager were both “fired.”

Apparently, they were given the choice to resign without any payouts or benefits, or the shareholders and CEO of the company would begin an investigation into these practices.I couldn’t believe it. A few hours later, the CEO and CFO arrived and tried to offer me a “bonus” for speaking up, a formal apology, and a raise if I was to drop the case. I just grabbed my bag and resigned right there on the spot.

No way was I dropping anything.

I walked out of there with a sense of satisfaction knowing that they’d be investigated and hopefully taken to task on what they’d tried to force us to do. From what I saw online and on the companies website, it took a long time for the company to recover. Even to this day, you can see the company has been bought, changed hands over and over. Millions lost. Bad publicity. Public trust and employee trust gone… all to save a few bucks and reward greedy management.” DarklyNear

16. Accuse Me Of Threatening My Professor Even Though He Carries Around The Baseball Bat? Get Real

“This took place in a university in the UK about 9 or 10 years ago.

I was there on my first year of an undergraduate degree, and the subject of my revenge, let’s call him DIP (Dubious Incompetent Professor) was the sole lecturer for a module that I was taking. DIP was an American professor, over in the UK for a couple of years to teach at this university. He wasn’t doing the best job. He was often late, refused to answer questions, often used new acronyms or terminology and refused to explain them, and never made his slides or notes available to his students.

He would make rude and unprofessional comments about the students when we were not able to answer his questions instantly, even on topics we hadn’t yet covered. On one occasion DIP turned up covered in cuts and bruises and proceeded to give us a third-year lecture about a completely unrelated topic. He became angry when this was pointed out, swore at the student, and stormed out of the lecture. Several lectures he attended smelling strongly of the special green plant.

Needless to say, I was not able to keep my mouth shut about this and had challenged him about it several times – usually after lectures when most of the other students had left. I never got anywhere.

Completely out of the blue, I get a letter delivered to my dorm summoning me to a departmental disciplinary hearing later that day. I have absolutely no idea what it’s for, but I start sh*tting bricks. Time to read up on the University discipline regulations.

I turn up at the appointed time and there’s another student from DIPs class there with me. Let’s call him Jim. Jim’s a bit of a wet lettuce and we don’t particularly get on (at least in part because he’s sleeping with my ex). We both look at each other kind of confused. Neither of us knows what’s going on. They pull Jim into the office first, and I sit down on the chairs in the corridor feeling more nervous as the minutes go on.

After about 10 minutes, Jim comes running out of the office sobbing. The door closes behind him and then nothing for another 10. What have I got myself into here? Then it’s my turn. I go in and there are 4 people sat in the office. In a rather intimidating stroke, the blinds are drawn, and there’s a single lamp on making the room kind of dark. There’s a desk in the middle of the room, with two people I don’t know sat at it and two more sat in the far corners mostly in shadow.

One of them is clearly DIP – he’s kind of distinctive. 6’2″ plays a lot of American football and is pretty beefy. I sit down and ask “What’s going on?” and they slide a piece of paper over to me. It’s a printout of a Facebook post – by Jim – made about a week ago. The post reads something along the lines of “I’m so sick of DIPs lectures, they’re pointless we never learn anything.

I might just punch him in the face” I raise my eyebrow at the suits watching me. They slide another printout over with a comment I made on it, circled in red. My comment on that status was roughly “Great Idea Jim, posting threats to assault a lecturer on Facebook. Why not go the whole way and say you want to kill him? Lay out a plan to dispose of the body and everything. You idiot.”

I look up at the suits across the desk, “Please explain these comments” they ask.

DIP leans forward in his chair, glaring at me. “They’re exactly what I wrote!” I say. “I’m pointing out to Jim in a sarcastic tone that making threats to assault people isn’t a great idea, especially in writing,” “*******!*” DIP shouts interrupting the suits conducting this interrogation as they begin to reply. He grabs the chair of one of them and pulls it back saying, “move” and takes their place at the interview table. The other person in the corner looks alarmed, and I notice that she’s been making notes the whole time but has now stopped.

“You are planning to kill me.” DIP growls. “You and your little ******* friend. I do not take threats like this lightly.” DIP’s face is red with rage and he looks like he’s on the brink of losing his self-control completely. I can’t help it. I laugh. The sheer ridiculousness of the situation is hilarious. DIP slams his palm down on the desk and roars at me to stop laughing. “Listen you little punk. How would you like it if I threatened to kill you? I’ve started keeping a baseball bat in my office just in case one of you comes round with ideas.

I feel genuinely under threat by you due to your comments. (I’m 5’9″ and back then about 150 pounds. He could bench press me with one arm) Maybe I take it with me for a walk one day after lectures. You live in (Student Halls block X) don’t you? Maybe we could find some ways to adjust your attitude.”

Well. That starts to get me angry. And when I get angry, I tend to get a bit verbally malicious.

I don’t respond initially. Then I look past him to the lady in the corner and say “Hi! Are you taking minutes for this “disciplinary” interview?” She nods. “Great! I just noticed you’d stopped when DIP took a place at the table. Could you please record his actions and DIPs threats to assault and kill me verbatim? As well as the fact that he has just disclosed he keeps a baseball bat in his office to assault students with?” DIP glares at me again and begins to speak.

I ignore him and pull a copy of the university disciplinary procedure out of my bag, on loan from the student library. Turning to the other suit, still at the table. “Why is he here? According to these, any complaints should be resolved by staff members who are independent of either party. Please could you ask him to leave?” “That’s IT!” DIP shouts, “You’re failing my course, if this was America, I’d have you arrested” “That’s nice,” I reply, “but you can’t do that.

All I’ve done is challenge another student in a jokey manner over comments they posted on a social media page. I haven’t done anything wrong.” I look back to the other suit “Could you explain to me where these printouts have come from, and why I was not given sufficient notice of this meeting to arrange for a student union representative to attend with me?”

The printouts clearly have the name of DIP’s girlfriend, another lecturer in the department visible.

She’s obviously been searching the Facebook pages of students in DIP’s class, which is against university policy, and shown DIP what she found. The woman in the corner has stopped writing again. I ask her to record those questions as well. She does so reluctantly. The suit that was removed from the table puts a hand on DIP’s shoulder “you should go” he says and DIP stands up and storms out slamming the door. The suits whisper to each other for a minute, look at me and say “You can go.

We will not be pursuing this any further on this occasion but you will be getting a warning.” “That’s ridiculous!” I say, but they won’t budge. “Please send me a copy of the minutes!” I ask cheerily as I’m going out the door. I wasn’t going to let this go.

Thoroughly p*ssed off after this, I decided to get my own back, and head up to the dean’s office to submit the exact same complaint against DIP, that he’d tried against me.

I fill in all the paperwork, give a statement and I’m asked what sort of resolution I’d like. I go for what will hurt DIP’s pride the most. A public apology to me in front of the class. I get told that I will be advised of the result in due course.

A week or two goes by and I don’t hear anything then one day, there’s a different lecturer teaching DIPs class. We all look around as she walks in.

“I’m sorry to tell you,” she says “that DIP is no longer employed by this university. I will be filling in for him until the end of the semester.” Excited murmurs fill the lecture hall. This is the best thing that had happened on this course all year. A day or two later I get a letter from the university. It says that they have terminated DIP’s employment due to the complaint from me and testimony from other students.

They have also referred the matter to the police who may be in touch with me in due course. The letter also went on to say that due to the potential risk he posed to the students, the university had also withdrawn their sponsorship of his VISA and that he no longer had time left to remain in the UK and would be returning to America within the week, so I should not feel under threat.

I was to report any further contact with him and would have the warning removed from my record. A friend in the department also told me that he and his girlfriend had a shouting match down the corridor when she found out what he had done and that he’d been sacked and she left him. I do feel a little bad for him. But not a lot.” Caballistics

15. No Tin Roof? No Response To Emails? No Problem! We’ll Just Get Y’All Impeached

“A few months back, Florida got pretty beaten up by a couple of hurricanes.

My folks live down there, and while none of the damage that they sustained was life-altering horrible or home destroying, homeowners’ insurance kicked in and they had some water damage through the roof. They also needed a new one because of all of the shingles that had come off/debris that had punctured it.
My folks looked through roofing options and determined that a metal roof would be a great option to reduce damage/maintenance on their home. Plus, it would serve as a more energy-efficient option with the passive solar collection and fewer thermal losses in the summer/winter.

Its more expensive, but my dad was basically personal finance incarnate while I was growing up. He’s in his 60’s and has finally concluded that he has **** You Money so long as that community is concerned, so the roof was a good investment. It looked like a win-win-win with that roof.

Then they reviewed the Home Owner’s Association (HOA) and saw that, as of 1989, metal roofs are prohibited in the neighborhood, subject to fines and mandatory removal.

Reviewing the bylaw further showed that it was clearly referring to older, crappier tin roofs, not a proper metal one like today’s market provides, which looks great and has all of those other benefits.

My folks wanted to play by the rules, though and called up the HOA to explain the situation. HOA was friendly and said that they would be looking into that bylaw and that my folks weren’t the only ones who requested that they be allowed to have a metal roof.

My parents couldn’t get a roofing contractor in for a few months anyway (too much demand since everyone else’s roof got wrecked), so they waited a few weeks and got nothing new out of the HOA. Tried again a few weeks later. Nothing. After two months of this, they said **** it and started construction on the metal roof. Popular opinion in the neighborhood was on their side, and the roof was covered with a tarp that wouldn’t last forever.

The new roof got installed over the course of a few days- and then we found out the HOA’s sh*ttiness.

The neighborhood has a nice brick sign out front that says “WELCOME TO (Neighborhood name).” It’s very classy, very nice- and was very damaged in a hurricane. The HOA was strapped for money due to other repairs/dues, and some pr*ck had the bright idea to impose as many fines as they could on the neighborhood to pay for these repairs- starting with my folks.

They served my folks with a letter claiming that they were in violation of the HOA, and demanded a $25,000 fine and that they remove it. Which is, of course, absurd. My poor mother is very much a play-by-the-rules sort, and she was worried sick. Dad’s ex-navy and a contract negotiator. He essentially checked his 60-year-old knuckles and said, “oh, you little ***** wanna play, do ya?” So they set about researching and making some calls.

Poor mom kept waking up at 1 am unable to sleep, and I felt terrible for her as she went through this. But then, they had a breakthrough.

A few weeks after being served (I’m fuzzy on the timeline since I don’t live in Florida, it may have been less) there was essentially a “burn them at the stake” meeting of the HOA where my parents could defend themselves for an absurdly short amount of time and the HOA could rip into them for daring to defy their wrath.

So my mom (because she’s more social/has a better temper than dad) comes up to speak and lets the HOA know that they can’t do this. HOA smirks and says that they sure can, they have a 40-year-old statute saying that they can.

Mom says, “You do. But I have State Law on my side, which supersedes your statute.” Turns out, there’s a law in Florida stating that an HOA (or really, any regulation) cannot be used to prevent an eco-friendly improvement from taking place on anyone’s private property.

And wouldn’t you know it- the passive solar of the metal roof counts as an eco-friendly improvement. Turns out, the roofing contractors have dealt with similar stuff before. When dad mentioned what was going on to them, the contracting officer pulled out a few letters of accreditation and a few past cases where the court had determined that their product was eco-friendly and forced the HOA to pay all legal fees. My mom produced all of this for the sh*tty HOA, who had to admit that this was in fact iron-clad.

Strapped for money as they were, they couldn’t afford to pay a lawyer.

HOA head growls, “Is that all?”

Mom turns up the sweetness to 11. “No. I see in the bylaws that we can vote to impeach board members at any HOA meeting and to elect their replacements. I move to impeach all of you. I nominate my husband, and…” she rattles off a list of names. HOA is stunned.

While dad looked into the legal, mom looked into the new neighborhood.

Popular opinion was on their side, and the hearing was public for the neighborhood. Mom convinced a majority of the homeowners to attend and remove the board for their crappy policy.

With that, my parents are now on the all-new board, and dad is putting his contract negotiation skills/own craftsmanship skills to work repairing the front entrance. And metal roofs are now allowed by the all-new HOA.” Saith_Cassus

14. Can’t Hide How Much You Hate Me Anymore, Teacher, Now Everyone Knows

“In high school (10+ years ago), I was quiet and attentive in class.

Teachers liked me. I wasn’t popular, but I had good friends. I say all this to explain that high school was relatively calm for me. I played sports, was on the student newspaper and got decent grades. However, that all changed my second-semester junior year.

I’ve always been a voracious reader. My freshman English teacher recommended I move up to the honors English track, so I did for freshman, sophomore, and the first half of junior year.

Then I was put into Classical Literature my second-semester junior year. I’ve always loved Greek and Roman stories and had already read your typical high school classical reading list on my own. I didn’t mind reading them again until I met Ms. Umbridge. She put on a sweet facade, but she was downright evil. She also decided she hated me. I still do not know why, or what transgression I committed, but she HATED me. I assume it was my habit of sometimes nodding off in classes.

At the time, I had undiagnosed thyroid issues and was getting up at 5 a.m. for swim practice. I say sometimes because it happened maybe twice a month total between all eight classes. I don’t remember nodding off in her class, but it could have happened.

Anyways, her class was 50% essays/written reports. The rest were random quizzes and a couple of tests. I was on the student newspaper, and I was a decent writer. I wasn’t worried about maintaining a B or up.

We wrote our first paper, and I got a D. I was shocked. The only class I struggled in was Chemistry and still, my lowest assignment grade was a C.

After class, I asked Ms. Umbridge what I did wrong because her notes were minimal. She told me my assessment of the material was “uninspired.” Okay….Can you direct me to an example of an inspired assessment? “Come back during study hall.” Thinking she’d have some example materials for me to review, I got a pass to see her during study hall.

Nope. She spent the full hour basically telling me I was an idiot. I remember leaving and crying because she didn’t tell me anything constructive. My friend (the eventual valedictorian) offered to help me with my next paper.

My friend and I spent hours on my next paper. She never got below an A- on anything. I got another D. My friend was furious. She took it to her AP English teacher and asked him to review it.

She said she was entering a writing competition and wanted advice. He said it was great. Her typical A+ work. My friend, quicker on the uptake, asked me for a copy of my original assignment. She asked her AP English teacher to look it over too, and he said she should enter the first one. This one was still good. He’d probably give it an A-, but the other paper was better. My friend was convinced Ms.

Umbridge was treating me unfairly for some reason, and she must not like me. My friend wanted me to tell my parents or my school counselor. A teacher didn’t like me? That had never happened. Sure they didn’t all love me, but none had actively disliked me. I decided I’d try one more time, but this time get Ms. Umbridge to help me.

Despite the previous horrors of spending study hall with Ms. Umbridge, I went to her office during study hall three times before the next paper was due.

She reviewed the paper and gave me tips on revising it each time. She did this in a red pen. I took notes. By the time the next paper was due, I had three revised versions with her notes in red ink on each one. I got a D+. She smirked and congratulated me on my improvement. *****. I was done. My friend was right. This ***** had it out for me and was giving me **** grades on purpose.

I’m a laid-back person, but I was p*ssed. Never before been this p*ssed. I took my paper to my newspaper teacher. Sure he didn’t teach English, but our student paper constantly won awards because of his work. I told him I was having trouble in English, and could he please look over my paper and give me advice. He was a little confused as to why I didn’t ask my English teacher, but he did it.

He also told me it was great, but gave me a few minor changes to make. I asked him if he thought it was a B or better. He said he’d give it an A, not 100%, but a solid A.

I went to my friend, and we brainstormed. I couldn’t request a drop/add. This wasn’t college. You just don’t switch classes at my high school, unless the teacher recommends an honor placement. That’s not true said my friend.

The football and basketball guys get moved to easier classes all the time to keep their grades up, so they are eligible for games. The athletics director was a friend of my dad, so I requested a meeting with him and my swim coach after school one day. I told them I was in danger of losing my eligibility to swim because I was pulling a D in a class. I wanted to move classes, but I knew I’d need approval from administration, which I wouldn’t get without a good reason.

They asked if I had requested help. I explained I had asked for help from multiple people, but my grade wasn’t improving. I didn’t know what to do. They asked to see my papers. I sat while they read them. They both looked at me confused. Neither of them could understand how those papers were worth only a D.

The student VP was brought in. He asked who helped me. I explained to my friend (he knew who she was, again future valedictorian), and she had even asked her AP English teacher to look it over for advice.

I had also asked my newspaper teacher to help me. Student VP asked if I had ever actually asked my teacher for help. I smiled and handed him the three revised versions of paper number three with Ms. Umbridge’s red ink all over them. He frowned. AP English teacher and my newspaper teacher were pulled into the meeting. They were each asked to grade the papers. All three papers got an A- or better.

While this was going on, my dad was called in by the athletics director.

My dad was p*ssed. He demanded I be moved to another class, and that Ms. Umbridge be put under review. Clearly, she wasn’t grading students on their work but on her own personal opinions. The school administration obviously bristled at the accusation that a teacher was treating students unfairly. A lot of arguing that I wasn’t allowed to sit on occurred in the VP’s office. I could hear plenty of yelling as six adult men argued over the appropriate next steps.

It was decided that myself, my dad, VP, and athletics director would have a meeting with Ms. Umbridge.

The following morning before school we all met. Ms. Umbridge seemed to think she was going to get to tell everyone why I was so stupid. VP explained that if I maintained a D in her class, I would lose my extracurricular eligibility, and we were all meeting to discuss what to do. She smirked and said I should be moved to the non-honors English track, and I had no business being in honors English.

I didn’t have the aptitude to understand the complex classical literature they were studying, and I probably would need a tutor to even get through basic English. I’ve never seen my father so red, and I half expected to see steam come out of his ears. VP asked why she didn’t try to help me improve. She said it was up to students to put in the initiative to get better. VP asked if that meant I had never asked her for help.

She said I had not. VP then pulled out the three revised versions of paper number three and handed them to Ms. Umbridge. Now it was her turn to be red. She called me a liar and said those notes weren’t hers. Things got heated, and I was asked to leave again. I sat outside the office. This time the secretary was there, and we both heard the shouting. School was set to start in 30 minutes, and they were all just shouting.

Then AP English teacher and newspaper teacher were called in again. More shouting. About 5 minutes to the start of classes, the teachers left and I was called back in. If looks could kill, I’d have died then and there when Ms. Umbridge walked out of VP’s office. I was being moved to basic English effective immediately. My current grade would not carry over. I would not need to make up any past assignments, and the new teacher would be instructed to grade me only on the assignments going forward.

My new English teacher, Ms. Honey, ended up being the English department head. She was at least 65 and had been doing this for decades. After 2.5 years of honors English, this class was easier than PE. I barely had to try to get an A, but I refused to let Ms. Honey think Ms. Umbridge had been right. I tried harder in that class than any other class that semester. I finished projects so quickly that I was asked to tutor a girl struggling in the class.

I spent half the class period just helping this girl understand the material. I helped her go from a C- to a B+. I got something like 104% in the class.

At the end of the semester, Ms. Honey called me into her office during study hall. She was recommending I return to honors English for senior year. I must have looked panicked because she assured me Ms. Umbridge would not be my teacher. In fact, she would not be anyone’s teacher.

She was leaving at the end of the school year. Ms. Umbridge was only in her late 20s and unmarried. Too early to retire. And my high school was in one of the best paying school districts in the state. I knew what leaving meant, but Ms. Honey still explained that I was put in her class on purpose. The school administration trusted Ms. Honey to determine the truth of Ms. Umbridge’s claim that I was basically a lying idiot.

Ms. Honey stated I very clearly belonged in honors English. She apologized if her class had not been challenging enough for me. I cried. I mean full-on ugly, snot cried. I didn’t realize it, but part of me had actually believed Ms. Umbridge up until that moment. Ms. Honey hugged me and consoled me. I spent my senior year in honors English and spent my study hall tutoring Ms. Honey’s struggling students.

To this day, I think about that awful woman fairly regularly.

My career is strongly writing-based, and I still worry obsessively over my writing. I hope she never taught again because she wrecked wreaked havoc on my self-confidence.” [Deleted]

13. Break Apart The Family With Your Greed? Not If I Have Anything To Do With It

“This all begins about 3 years ago, at my grandma’s funeral. She passed away at the age of 73 leaving behind three sisters, a plethora of grandkids, and quite a lot of real estate.

When the paperwork tsunami regarding inheritance started, something began to smell fishy. My alive aunt was extremely hesitant in giving us the death certificate, so we could start filing for inheritance. Things started to get complicated and confusing, so I had to take over all the paperwork and to help my mother out.

I find out, that the apartment my grandmother lived in, for some reason no longer belonged to her, but was signed off to the kids of my aunt.

Upon further inspection, I realized that most of my grandmother’s belongings were signed off to my aunt long before my grandmother’s death.

First, I decided to speak to my mom. She told me that on the date the papers were signed, my grandmother was already in pretty bad shape. Dementia and Alzheimer’s had already gotten the best of her and she was not legally able to sign them. So I decided to go to my aunt, still not wanting to believe that she screwed us over.

I, sincerely believing that it was all an honest deal, ask her how it all happened. I will never forget her response. I never thought someone could say this to a relative. She told me that it was none of my business, that she intends to get everything she can, and the rest of the real estate that will be shared property, she will force us out of. I was baffled. I couldn’t understand how she could do something like this to my mother.

I had to do something.

The next day I spoke with my mother. She was shocked and devastated. In tears. She also could not understand how her own sister could do such a thing. Especially after all the things she did for her, like helping her with a career in sports, helping with money during hard times etc. I knew we needed to go to court. The problem is that my mother is a working pensioner and is still raising my 13yo brother.

And I just spent all my savings on renovating her apartment. Money was an issue. Luckily, I made good friends with our company lawyer at work, and he offered to help me. We collected all the needed paperwork, he told me to document any further encounters with their family and to keep an eye out for anything fishy. After that, we sent a letter to my aunt, saying that we will dispute everything in court.

This is where my life became a nightmare.

It all started out with threatening calls from her sons. That’s no biggie. I recorded all of the phone conversations. They found out where I work and live and started stalking me. Again, no biggie. A while back, my boss made me an offer for a driver to pick me up to and from work, because the driver lived near me. Bout time I hit him up on that offer. So I did. One morning, I wake up and get ready to work.

My driver is downstairs waiting for me. I put on a coat and head downstairs. I open the door of my apartment complex and get hit in the face by my oldest cousin. He threatens me again and flees the scene. The driver runs up, helps me up, and tells me that it was all recorded on the car’s front cam. Calls my boss, and takes me to the hospital. The next day, I take the video and all of the phone conversations to the police.

They accept everything. When the police contacted my aunt, searching for her son that punched me, she was LIVID. She called me and spat threats in the phone. I reminded her, that her son is already in trouble for threatening me. She hangs up. About a week later, I wake up in the middle of the night from loud banging on my door. As I’m walking to the door, it gives in and flies open. Two large men walk in, stating this is now their apartment as well.

Handing me the papers they said: if you want to remain healthy, you should pack your **** and go. I call the police. Police come, checks the paperwork, and it’s totally fine. Turned out, my aunt hired professional… erm… Let’s call them – professional inconveniences. They make money by forcing people to move out of shared homes. She gave them a part of her right of ownership, and they were legally allowed to move in. Next 3 months, I routinely had to pick my door because they kept changing the locks.

Had to deal with constant loud music. Dirt and filth in my own house. Barely any sleep. After three months they gave up and left.

Seeing that this didn’t work, my cousin’s family decided to desperately **** with me. One night one of them walked into my apartment complex and started spraying pepper spray at my door to try and lure me out. Unfortunately for him, I was cleaning the house and doing some minor work after the goons they hired.

All of my doors were pretty insulated with rags and towels to prevent concrete dust flying everywhere. I barely smelled the pepper spray. The court was due the next day.

I barely convinced my mother to ask for her sister to be eliminated form inhering anything. After I showed the court video and audio of them threatening and assaulting me, it was done. The court ruled in our favor. Upon returning from court, I went to the police to tell them about the pepper spray incident.

I was rushed into a room and questioned. Turned out my elderly neighbor died from lung complications caused by the PS.

Here I am today. Just returned from the notary, where my mother signed all the real estate to her name. I got a significant amount of money for assault and threats. And my piece of **** aunt is left with her tiny apartment and a son in prison for assault, threats of violence, and homicide. Her second son was fired from the rescue team and is no longer able to work for any government or social structures, and he doesn’t know how to do anything else.

They’re bankrupt, and it serves them right.

Last note: There still seems to be confusion about how my aunt got the goons in. I’ll try to explain. You have what’s called a “right of ownership” before my grandmother’s death, she was the sole holder of the right. After her death and some manipulations from my aunt, my aunt got about ¾ of the right of ownership, and my mother got ¼. Now you can do anything you want with the right.

You can sell it, give it away etc. Anyone holding the right has the legal ability to use the apartment/house. My aunt gave the goons a tiny portion of her right, so they could freely and legally enter and live.”
Sergnoff

12. Bully Me My Entire Life And Steal My Girl? I’ll Inundate You With Awful Mail

“So, I have known this guy since 2nd grade. Let’s call him Matt. Matt during elementary school bullied me. He was the kind of guy who would talk **** in front of everyone and then want to be friends when no one was around.

So, in short, he was a giant ****** bag. Well, when all his friends either left school or moved away from his neighborhood, he decided I was his only remaining friend. I was always the big kid, the tallest one in my class and incredibly shy so making friends was hard, I was excited to have a friend.

Now Matt was and still is a selfish ******. so it was always a one-sided friendship. Fast forward about 12 years me and Matt are both out of high school.

We spent more of our early adult years driving around getting into misadventures. He calmed down a lot over the years and wasn’t as much of a ***. So I met this girl lets call her Jen. Jen and I hit it off, dated, and eventually formed a real emotional connection. I was determined to marry this girl, I was legit in love. Jen and I moved in together we were happy. Around the same time Matt, who always sold the special green plant at one point or another, got into actually growing it.

He got the capital to buy a small house and the equipment needed and proceeded to grow.

He did that for about a year he would give me a good price and in return, I would help out with his grow room. Jen and Matt always got along so when I was at work she would drive to his house and get some bud for me. Well after a while she would go over there and not bring any bud back claiming he was out.

Matt has never run out of bud in the years I’ve known him. He always knew someone who had it. In other words, he was always a good hook up. I started noticing other weird behaviors, she was really distant would get moody wouldn’t want to hang out after work always claiming she was going out with friends. What really sealed it for me is he sent me a ” hey babe” text and I replied “?” to which he replied “my bad that was for someone else”a few seconds later I hear Jen’s phone go off and it’s from Matt.

So I didn’t say anything I let them continue with their cheating. I had something bigger in store.

Now Matt is a huge homophobe. So I started my revenge by creating profiles on every gay dating site I could find. I must of spend a solid week signing up for sites messaging anyone and everyone I could posing as him and would ask these men to call and text him all day every day. To send him XXX pics and videos and asking for them to call me all sorts of filthy things.

I said that he loved it when men would humiliate me. So I let that stew for a week to the point where Matt was getting p*ssed.

He had so many texts and calls at all hours of the day and night he went and bought a new phone. I did the same thing a month later posted his new number. The second part was a bit more devious. He had a craigslist account and he signed in one day when he was at my house to double-check something.

He never signed out so I hopped on and created an ad for “free special green plant.” I posted the address for his grow house and said I would give free special green plant to whoever knocked on my door, didn’t matter what time they came he would be happy to give them some of the stuff. This is when I confronted Jen about her cheating, she broke down, confessed, and eventually moved out later that week.

She moved right in with Matt. The day she confessed I went over to Matt’s house to buy some when he went to get me some baggies I grabbed the giant bag of stuff he had sitting on his table and walked out. I went up north for a few days to clear my head. He texted me furious that I stole from him to which I replied that it was just the price he had to pay for banging my GF I told him to *** off and blocked his number.

So about a month went by and Jen called me she wanted to talk she said Matt’s house was raided and on top of the weed he had growing they found a large amount of other felony-level *****. He was charged and at the time was sitting in prison awaiting trial. To top off the story, she was pregnant. The kid isn’t mine because we hadn’t hooked up for almost 6 months at that point. She said she still loved him and I told her that was fine, I had no interest in her anymore.

Her sister and I ended up getting together about 2 years later and even though it’s awkward at family things I have never been happier. Jen now has a kid and Matt is out on parole and still, to this day, gets calls from interested gay men.” Bluntman9000

11. I Told All The Worst Customers They Could Get A Full Refund And It Caused Total Chaos

“So this story goes back about 20 years when I was a student working part-time at a PC World in Bristol (big-box retailer in the UK).

To set the scene, this store (arguably the entire company) ran on the model of selling as much stuff as possible to uneducated shoppers. You know, USB cables for 20 a pop, etc. I wasn’t in sales but worked in customer support, so ended up with a mix of genuinely nice people needing help with their computer through to really irate ones who felt they had been wronged/ripped off / etc and thus had a vendetta against the shop.

Being a student, the next semester rolled around so I quit, giving a week’s notice. For some reason, the manager of the store took this as a personal affront and decided to make my life a misery for that last week. This mainly consisted of being forced to do the worst jobs in the store, like standing at the front “meeting and greeting” for hours on end.

To cut to the chase, I decided to return the favor…

Now customer services had a book of the worst customers, ones with long-running, often tenuous, complaints.

You’d have to occasionally call them up and fob them off as to why they weren’t getting a refund. Pretty soul-destroying work.

So on my last day, I picked up the book and called everyone in it. I told them that the company was sorry and that they should come in next week and they could get a full refund (which would never happen). All they had to do was ask for me by name and their wish would be granted.

We could even refund their bridge tolls (also never happening). The expressions of relief down the phone just made it even more satisfying.

Then I left for the store for the last time.

Cut to a few weeks later and I bumped into an ex-colleague in town, and first words out of his mouth were “I can’t believe you did that.” He told me that there was a near-riot in the store, with a rogues gallery of the worst disgruntled customers demanding their refund (running to thousands each) coming in one after the other the whole day all saying my name to the manager and demanding he did something…” spam_head 

10. Want To Run A Business Like A Tyrant? Well, We’ll Just Stop Showing Up When It Counts

“In the early 2000s, I was working at a Graphics and T-Shirt printing shop in a major college town in the Midwest.

I was a graphic design major and it just made sense for me to be involved in screen printing and design. The owner of the company was a very socially awkward dude that went to the university and stayed around after graduation to make his money. He had deep roots in the community, was on several alumni boards, etc… as such he had many large contracts with universities in the same athletic conference (one of the largest in the nation) as our college.

This meant we spent most of our day rehashing old sports designs to meet new criteria. A lot of it was event-based, meaning if a certain team won a certain game and there needed to be a shirt made to commemorate it, I was on call to do that design.

Now (we’ll call him) Ron wasn’t a cheery guy. In fact, I don’t think I’d ever seen him smile. But as of late, he had been getting bolder with his three designers (myself, Tim, and Carla, who was the art director).

He would venture up into the art room and hover while we worked. He evidently didn’t like what he saw because he made me take my inspiration board down because it was “clutter.” The hovering and critiquing didn’t sit well with us, but whatever, it’s his business. Then, he hires his Dad. To do what, I’m not really sure. But whatever it was that was p*ssing Ron off about his designers became his Dad’s obsession. He started hanging out in the design room and literally real-time critiquing the designs and the amount of time it took us to do them.

Needless to say, we weren’t happy.

So, one day Tim and I come back from lunch and Ron is upstairs in the design room lighting Carla up. He’s yelling that she was costing him money because designs were sent back for revisions or took too long or just plain weren’t good. As we were all very competent designers and worked under ridiculous deadlines all the time, it kinda confused us. Regardless, Tim and I both liked Carla as a boss and didn’t appreciate Ron yelling at her like he did.

She came out of the room crying and pushed past us on the way down the stairs and went home. She had been getting recruited by another screen printing place in town anyway, so she took that opportunity to jump ship. Good for her we thought.

Fast forward to about a month. Tim and I were even more unhappy than before because now, not only were Ron and his dad constantly breathing down our necks, but we had a three-person workload with two people.

He became even more pushy and rude and started to come unhinged. I almost hit him once, that’s how he would talk to us. Tim and I hatched a plan.

The CWS (College World Series) is in Omaha every year. The CWS was Ron’s second-biggest cash cow next to the NCAA Men’s basketball tournament in March. Every year he rented an 18 wheeler with a 4-color process press in the back of it to take to Omaha.

The deposit was $10k and like another $10k for the full rental. We’d watch the games and start getting the designs ready as soon as it was apparent a team was going to win. We printed the shirts right there on the spot and had them hot off the presses for people to buy. It was a great system that worked, as long as he had people who knew how to design and print the film.

So the day before the CWS starts rolls around and everyone is getting ready to go to Omaha. Ron was riding in the truck, his assistant and several other office staff were pooling in a van, and Tim and I were driving separately in my truck. It was to be a convoy. The truck took off, the van fell in behind it, and we fell in behind the van. They turned off on the highway toward Omaha and Tim and I went to the bar.

They didn’t notice until they got to Omaha. I saved the voicemails just in case I disappear someday. He shuttered four months later and rebranded as a design only firm. Gotcha ****.” SadConfiguration 

9. He Knew Exactly What To Do To Protect Little Sis And We Only Found Out The Truth Years Later

“Before I was even born, around 30 years ago, my dad was left in charge of his sisters, as both their parents had died fairly young.

As a result, he was always very protective of them. My youngest aunt (I think she must have been around 19 at the time) was living with her dumb-a*s boyfriend. My father had never liked him. He would talk *** about our family behind their backs, would pretty much control everything my aunt did, and he couldn’t keep a job because he spent his time partying. Just not a great guy.

Anyway, one day, my aunt shows up at my father’s place, her face all bruised up.

Turns out the ****** has been shoving her, grabbing her… for months, and finally escalated to actually punching her. My dad, being the good man he is, let her move in with him. The thing is, she had left a few of her things at her ex’s place, records, clothes, etc. But he wouldn’t give it back and had the locks changed before she could come back to get them.

For a few weeks, no matter how much she asked, she just couldn’t get her things back.

Eventually, she let it go, thinking she’d never see them again. Until one morning, when she found a box on her doorstep, filled with her things. No note, nothing. She thought it was weird. Maybe he had finally come around? Maybe he decided not to be such an ******?

Anyway, years go by, she hasn’t heard from the guy, almost forgot about him… And then, one day out of the blue, she runs into him. But before she even has the chance to panic, he turns around, crosses the street, and basically runs away.

She came home and told my father about it. “What if he decides to come back? I’m not sure I can face him again!” And that’s when she, and the rest of the family, found out what had happened.

A few weeks after their breakup, my father got fed up of seeing his little sister cry. Fed up of this guy trying to hurt her, holding her things hostage so that she’d come back to him, fed up with him hurling insults at her on the phone.

So he went back to her former apartment, and picked her locks (don’t know when he learned to do that. or why.). He could have just taken her things and left, but he didn’t. He wanted to make sure this ****** wouldn’t come back. Now I think it’s important to state that at the time, my dad was military. You DID NOT want to *** with him.

So he sat down, in the middle of the living room, in the dark.

And when ****** ex came back, my father grabbed him. Didn’t punch him, didn’t kick. Just grabbed him from behind, and told him to get my aunt’s things and put them in a box. “And don’t damage them.” He told him to just leave them at the doorstep, to not even try to talk to her. “Because if you ever talk to her again, I will do something much worse than this.” And then he threw him out of the window of his 1st-floor apartment.

In the end, the ****** probably broke a few bones, and even though it wasn’t legal, and I do not recommend it, it worked. Because he never talked to my aunt again.” Evilmenstruator 

8. Blackmail Me With Lies? I’ll Take Your Business

“I’m a business owner in another country with very strict libel laws. If you say something bad about someone it doesn’t matter if it’s true or not. It costs them money they can sue you. It’s the law in my country and people get sued for it a lot.

So I own a bar, a successful one.  I try to take care of my customers and I’m always at my bar making sure my staff is doing a good job. I also always have events and parties. This helps my bar be successful.

So not too long ago I moved my bar to a better location and shortly after,  the bar owner across the street started to threaten me. She said I was telling people she had illegal people working for her.

She said I told people she was selling naughty things. She said I was saying she was ripping people off. I didn’t know any of this, and I don’t even know her. I am busy, I have a bar, I have a family, and I have a normal job too.

Then one day, she sends me a message and says I need to pay her $25,000 or she will sue me. I need to pay the $25,000 because it is less then what the court would make me pay.

I’m angry, I don’t know why I need to pay $25,000 for something I didn’t do. I think she was just mad at my success.

My boyfriend who is American told me I should speak to a lawyer. It was very stressful. I just wanted to grow my business and live a happy life. I don’t want a fight over stupid stuff. But after a few weeks of her texting me demanding I pay her money, I go to a lawyer.

The lawyer told me that I can sue her for blackmail and she can sue me for saying bad things about her. I told my lawyer, “I didn’t say a good or bad thing about her, I don’t even know her!” The lawyer says that’s fine because she will have to prove I said bad things about her and if I didn’t say anything bad about her she, then she can’t win. But I can prove she tried blackmail me.

If she wants money out of me for saying bad things about her she needs to sue me, not blackmail me.

So I sue her.

It took a long time… a very long time. Over one year, in fact. And lots of paperwork, back and forth, waiting, very stressful. I was pulling out my hair. I’m just glad my boys keep me happy and focused. And then the day comes we go in front of the judge.

The judge said that she can’t prove I said anything bad about her and since she can’t prove I said anything bad she gets nothing.

The judge then told me that I need to get paperwork showing how much money I pay my lawyer. I was smart and I brought it with me. My lawyer was very expensive. The judge then asked how much money my business made. I told the judge and I also brought proof.

The judge then ordered her to pay 10% of my whole year’s earnings because she was trying to blackmail me and that is not ok.

10% was a lot of money, a lot more than $25,000. She had to sell her bar to pay me.

I was so happy, but you see she had a problem. She couldn’t sell her bar. No one wanted to buy it because many people said my bar put her bar out of business so why do they want to buy it? When they give her a price, it was always a very low price, and definitely not enough to pay me or give her enough money to do something else.

So I told her, let’s make a deal; You give me your bar and we say everything is even. She said that’s too much money so I promise to pay her a little bit every month as a “rent” and she agreed because she had no choice. So I bought her bar. I got it for a very good price because she had to pay me and she had no money. In my country, if a judge tells you that you have to pay for something and you can’t pay it then one day they will send you to jail.

So I took her bar and turned it into a restaurant which is also doing well.  Now I have a good bar, a good restaurant and I’m happy again.

It was very stressful 18~ months, I didn’t want to fight her, I don’t know why she tried to fight me. I think she was just mad. She was always mad and mean which is why I think no one liked her.” Dontplaywithme82 

7. Managers Want To Online Shop While At Work And There’s A Queue  Not With Me Around

“I worked for a few years, part-time in reservations for a large casino and resort.

We were frequently short-staffed on any given day, leaving us deep in the queue and some p*ssed off customers once we got to them. It was very draining, and we had LOTS of turnovers.

3-4 supervisors were present during each shift, in the middle of the room, while the workers surrounded the edges. During the day we’d make trips up to their mid-floor open “office” to hand in forms, sign things, etc. They almost never jumped on the lines to help with the queue, though.

Somehow too busy to help. One day, we are about 25 deep in queue, and I go up to have them sign something. The supervisor does not see me approach, and I notice she is online shopping for shoes or something. She attempts to quickly change the window but it was too late. Keep in mind, the supervisors could use the internet freely, but we workers were not allowed to use the internet at all, even during slow times.

I decide that it’s some ******* to avoid helping with the queue, to online shop on the company clock, and all the time, to do something that workers were not even allowed to do. So I figured out how to keep them all busy, permanently.

We had these things called “Profile Merge” slips. Basically, when a customer would call in to make a reservation, you should check our customer database to see if they’ve stayed before. By name, by Player’s number, etc., but many would not do this (or would not do it correctly).

Therefore, you’d end up having half a dozen profiles for the same actual customer. When we encountered these during our normal duties, we were supposed to fill out Profile Merge slips, with the person’s name, Players#, and the various Profile #s they had, and highlighting what you believed to be the correct Profile# (if you thought that there was one). These were turned into the supervisors, for them to correct within the database in their spare time, as we workers did not have the ability/authority to actually make these edits/corrections within the database.

You might normally turn one, two of these Profile Merge slips in each week.

I decided to do these with every spare second I had since we couldn’t do much else. I systematically began going through the entire customer database (at least 20,000 profiles), beginning with last names with the letter “A.” I easily made dozens of these Profile Merge slips each shift. My record was 104 in one shift. Each of these Profile Merges probably took 20 minutes each for the supervisor to review and implement the changes.

Sometimes they’d come back to me with “not sufficient info for Merge.” I didn’t care, I knew this, and I’d submit them anyways. Not my job (nor did I have the database authority) to figure out which one was actually correct, if any. As you might guess, this cut into their spare time free-for-all.

So I do this for about three months, and they are so backed up now. Each day, I’m getting the approved and denied Profile Merge slips in my inbox, for ones that I had submitted several weeks ago.

As time passes, they get more and more behind. Here’s the best part – we suddenly are given a policy change. We can now all use the internet on our spare time! Great! I know this was purposefully directed towards how I was using my spare time, as it was never even a sincere thought before this to allow us unfettered internet access. Basically, they’d finally be allowing us the same rights they had, in an attempt to give me something preferable to do with my time instead of Profile Merge slips.

Nope. I still kept at it, though I did poke around Reddit here and there. I never stopped submitting those bad boys every chance I got. By the time I put my two weeks’ resignation in, they were 3 months behind in Profile Merge slips. It took months just to get through one letter of the alphabet. I had only gotten to the letter “H.” I left that place so happy, knowing that workers finally got to use the internet, because the bosses didn’t like doing extra work, and instead, they essentially lost their own ability to use their spare time on the web.

Shouldn’t have been online shopping while we were in the queue…

Just a final note: Not every supervisor was a jerk. There were many days when I actually liked all the supervisors on my shift and who were coming into the next shift, so I wouldn’t turn my Profile Merge slips in that day. I think everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief when I didn’t turn anything in. But there was one in particular boss, Lipstick on a Pig, who was just a straight up ****.

Previously, as a worker, she would routinely hit the “skip” button on her phone to avoid taking her turn for a call, and it would pass on to the next poor soul. We were almost never supposed to skip calls, but not only did she do it routinely and openly, but she also got a promotion to supervisor. You can then imagine what she was like with an ounce of authority. So, I’d save up my Profile Merge slips for a few days, and as soon as Lipstick on a Pig came in for a shift that I worked, I’d personally hand her my amassed 100-200 Profile Merge slips, with my best smile.

“Here ya go! Made some more today! Forgot to turn them in yesterday, too. Oops!” That was the BEST PART.” Knuds1b 

6. When I Say No, I Mean It

“My friends and I take turns renting a vacation house for a month. I rented a large farmhouse with a pool and housekeeper up the hill from a lovely beach town. Six months out, all the rooms are filled for the entire stay. My husband gets an email from his sister (my sister-in-law/ SIL) saying that she and her mother (MIL) will be coming for a visit.

I tell my husband all the rooms are taken and send an email to SIL saying the same and give her the contact for a hotel in Beach Town. I come home to the farmhouse late one afternoon to find my SIL and MIL sitting in the living room. Great I think, two more for dinner and no advance warning. I say that I am going up to my room to change. Two steps up the stairs my husband says there is a change in rooms.

Yeap. I get to my room to find their luggage and things all over my room. I sleep on the floor? Nah. A side note on MIL. No one ever tells her no. Our house heated to 80F day/night when she visits in winter and 60F in summer. All lights turned on all the time. Her food in the fridge, yours on the counter, etc. Whatever. But after 15 years, I had enough. My vacation house (I paid for everything), my rules.

I packed up their things, took luggage downstairs, and put in their car.  Saying nothing. Went in the kitchen. The stovetop is filled with pots madly bubbling. MIL cooking is the worst.

Housekeeper has been unable to cook the meals we had planned. I got the largest pot, poured all the ‘food’ in, and had the housekeeper help me take the pot out, through the living room, to the edge of the forest. Dumped it. Went back in the kitchen, packed up their food, took it to their car.

Went and stood in front of SIL and told her there was no room in the house and they would have to get a room in Beach Town. Turned to my husband and asked him to please escort his mother to their car. I went to the pool where all my friends were and waited. They took the next plane home. No means no.” Njstore 

5. Don’t Steal My Belongings Sis, And Expect Me To Play Nice

“This all took place many years ago when I was a freshman in high school.

I had bought an iPod nano (hot *** back then!) with the money I had earned by helping my neighbor, and as I didn’t make much, I was pretty protective of it. My scumbag sister had also recognized that it was worth a few hundred. As I later found out, she had stolen it and given it to a friend (temporarily).

I suspected this immediately when it wasn’t on my desk where I knew I left it.

I asked my parents if I had done something that warranted a punishment, but neither had touched it. Clearly, I needed evidence to pin my sister.

As a freshman, I was pretty computer savvy. At the time, I was learning a few programming languages and had a good feel for novice hacking. Nothing serious, but enough to get in trouble at school kinda thing.

I got to work on a spy tool: my plan was to get into her email and Facebook, where I hoped to find evidence.

At the very least, I could *** up her account and get revenge. A few hours of work later, the program was done. And it was way more than a simple spy tool.
Although I honestly had no idea how to make a spy tool at the time, I **** sure knew how to write a batch file that would *** your Windows partition six ways to Sunday. I had basically written a carpet bomb that had the same icon as Internet Explorer.

The virus (can I call it that?) was armed when you replaced the default iexplore.exe file with the malicious file that shared the same file name and icon. Of course, when you went running IE, you set it off. The original file would be launched after the virus ran, so everything was still usable.

Of course, my original goal was still carried out. I had packaged in a simple keylogger (records keystrokes) that any decent antivirus would have noticed instantly.

But once my sister was out of the house, there was nothing stopping me from ripping her antivirus out by the roots. Which I did. And then planted the virus. A few hours later, she came home and started her normal computer browsing – log in, open IE, check Facebook and email, etc.

But today was a little different. She probably didn’t notice, but Internet Explorer lagged a little when she opened it. That was because “Internet Explorer” had to execute a few little things before it extracted and then launched the real browser application.

For instance, a few files (marked hidden, with innocent names) were copied to her startup folder, waiting to execute at the next login. The keylogger was embedded deep into the system and was started right up, and within a minute her passwords were saved in a protected log file. She was completely unaware.

Of course, that all changed in about 20 minutes. The virus, which was running in the background, ran a fake error message that caused a reboot: “There appears to be a beaver dam obstructing your flow of internet connection.

CODE RED, reboot required!” She was somehow stupid enough to not instantly realize that this was some sort of malware/spyware and just patiently waited for the login screen. As soon as she logged back in, the hidden startup files ran and she was greeted with some weird error message and important-looking command prompt windows (which were busy doing important things, like deleting system files and corrupting huge registry chunks). Suddenly, she was getting errors about things like her hard drive being jammed with peanut butter, and “Windows has detected an intelligence deficit in USER.

Consider a system upgrade.” Complete with an annoying BEEP noise every time she tried to close it. Her CD tray kept popping open, no matter how many times she closed it. She even got a snarky message (“put it in me babe!”) every time it opened back up. Meanwhile, in the background, a small script uploaded the keylogger file to my FTP account and deleted the keylogging portion as well as the hidden startup files, in case investigation was done.

Naturally, this triggered her mashing the power button and waiting for the screen to turn off. She knew something wasn’t right as soon as she had the login screen: everything was 640×480 resolution. At this point, she asked me to come to fix it, because I was the computer nerd in the house. I had to contain my laughter. “Just try logging in, this is really weird. I have no idea why this would happen.” The desktop was a beautiful pixel collection featuring 256 colors (that was a lot a couple of decades ago!) and barely distinguishable icons.

Her theme was set to Windows Classic, which she hates with a passion (she’s one of those people who spends hours “customizing” the look of the icons, cursors, and other piddly-a*s things).

Unfortunately for her, I had plans with friends and couldn’t help her with her computer. Sorry about that. All program files and hardware drivers were gone, so she had no luck running a browser amidst the chaos, or even getting an internet connection in the first place.

In the end, I got my iPod. I spoke to her the next day and asked for it back. Naturally, she claimed not to have it. She didn’t know that I had read her Facebook messages, and already knew that her friend had it (she and her friend were messaging about how to turn it off or something). I asked my parents right in front of her: “Can you ask her to show her Facebook messages just so she can clear herself? I thought I heard her saying something to her friend about the iPod and how she would talk about it on Facebook.” Sure enough, she broke down and said that she was “just borrowing it.” Obviously, my parents forced her to show the messages, which clearly proved how it was a little more than borrowing that she had in mind.

My dad recommended that she have someone fix her laptop. Luckily, I was around to do it, and for $20 I would be happy to reinstall Windows.” SausageHacker

4. Be Jerks And Maim My Dog? We’ll Plot A Seamless, Multi-Layered Revenge

“My family is a family of three, middle class, and we grew up in a nice area. Nothing too fancy, nothing terrible. Just your typical suburbia with neighborhood parks, churches, & schools all within walking distance. We were nice to our neighbors and all knew each other.

My parents had an outdoor fire pit that they liked to sit on outside on the back patio and drink, listen to music, grill, and relax outside. My family is very respectful of rules so the music was almost never loud, we don’t throw parties, and we kept mainly to ourselves but invited people over occasionally.

When I was in eighth grade we had some new next-door neighbors move in. They were a family of four; Mom, Dad, Son, Daughter.

The Son was a year older than me and the Daughter was a year younger than me. The Daughter and I hit it off immediately as friends but I noticed something was off when I would go over. Let’s call them the Smiths.

The Smith’s had a weird idea of how to interact with people. I get it, everyone is different. They were very blunt and open about everything, never would say thank you, didn’t think about others.

They just turned out to be the scum of the earth when it came to treating other people with dignity and respect. Just weird people, but I guess it takes all kinds.

The Dogs:
My family had a medium-sized basenji that my dad had trained very well.
When I was a junior in High School, Daughter Smith really wanted to have a new dog. Daughter Smith basically got whatever she wanted, being the younger sibling and could do no wrong.

So Mother Smith got her a beautiful German Shepard. I’ll call the dog ******.

Now ****** really isn’t the one to blame. The Smith’s never corrected the dog so it’s honestly no surprise that ****** never behaved. The dog grew up doing whatever he wanted. He was constantly off the leash in the front yard, tried to pick fights with my dog. In the back yard, he was always trying to dig under the fence or in some places.

He tried to knock the fence down. ****** was obsessed with running the fence line with my Basenji and just trying to get to him whenever we saw him. They got into a few dog fights when ****** got loose but I promise it was never my dog’s fault that this 80-pound sack of fur ran into our yard and picked a fight.

The Pre-Story:
A few years of this behavior go by and Smith’s and my family aren’t friendly anymore.

We would express to them that their dog was trying to get to our dog, that the fence was in bad shape, that my dad and I were constantly filling the holes under the fence that their dog had dug. They just didn’t care. My family went into their own pockets to replace 3 sections of fence and just doing that p*ssed them off.
By the time we are absolutely fed up with it, I had gone off to University and was a sophomore.

The Story:
A few days before Thanksgiving, ****** dug yet another hole under the fence. Since I wasn’t at home playing with the dog as much and my parents were fixated on getting Thanksgiving plans ready, no one noticed the hole.

The Friday after Thanksgiving my parents were out relaxing in the back yard, the dogs were running the fence line and I was about to leave to go hang out with some old high school friends. I went outside to tell my parents that I was leaving when we hear the most horrid yelp by any animal that I have ever heard.

****** had dug far enough to put his head under the fence and bit the *** out of my dog. Half of his paw was torn almost completely off as well as some other things that I won’t describe. Long story short, we had to put my dog down because of it.

Now, the Smiths refused to acknowledge what had happened. They never once said sorry, never once offered to pay any part of the medical bills, nothing.

As far as they were concerned, we were the dead ones, not my dog.

The Revenge:
By this point, my family is p*ssed, and we have nothing but time on our hands. We devise our revenge over the course of a few months. It had to be gradual and cost them time, effort, money, and most importantly: Make them feel like ***.

First step: Collect dog ***. I’ll come back to that later.

Second step: Take them to court and get their dog classified as a “Dangerous Dog.” If you ever have the chance to look at the hoops you have to go through to keep a dangerous dog, you would know it’s horrible.

The requirements change depending on where you live but in our area, the dog had to be muzzled while outside, never could be off a leash, pay fines, has to have a special crate in their back yard (which was hard for them because they had a pool, random surprise inspections, and if the dog has another incident the dog has to be put down.) To be clear, the goal wasn’t to hurt the dog. Just make their life difficult for as long as the animal was alive.

What was important for us was that it set up a record with the city and police department. We slowly convinced our neighbors to call them in on every violation that they did for months. Park more than 18 inches off the curb? Ticket. Loud music past quiet hours? Ticket. Now, I know you’re thinking that calling the cops and making them pay tickets isn’t revenge and you’re right…it was our cover. We started to play our music loud right up till quiet hours every single night for three months.

When they got fed up with it and tried to call the cops, there was nothing they could do. We’d politely explain that they have had a record of doing the same thing and then they would get reprimanded instead.

Third Step: Summer rolls around and now I’m home and working a 9-5 job so all of my nights are free. The Smith’s Son was working second shift at some restaurant so he never got home until after midnight.

During the summer in Texas, your car could reach 120F to the touch in midday. The point being, even at midnight the car was hot. The best part was that all of the Smiths’ cars were parked outside.
My mom got this idea after one of her friends got pranked by putting glitter in the air vents that defog your windows. We decided to step it up a notch. If you take frozen shrimp or fish, let it thaw for a day, get it nice and smelly, put it in a blender with a crap ton of water, then freeze it into ice cubes, you can imagine what that smells like when it thaws.

One smelly freezer vs what we did…worth it.

Over the course of June when anyone would check the mailbox (which was perfectly placed on the other side of the Smith’s house) we would drop one of those nasty ice cubes into the defogger vent of the Son’s car. Then halfway through June, we started moving on to the Mom’s car. Like clockwork, we would see them on weekends trying to air out their cars all day making it even easier to throw in ice cubes all summer.

Remember that dog *** I told you about? Here’s the fourth part.

The Daughter was a big swimmer all the time. Her parents never made her have a job so all she would do is swim all day and night if she wasn’t hanging out with friends. My dad came up with the idea of “*** Bombs” when he bought a slingshot to shoot down hornets nests. After doing some yard work while still having gloves, he would load up that slingshot with dog ***, shoot it over the fence and into their pool.

At first, it was only a couple of pieces, then it grew to a few more (by that point we had gotten another dog), and right before their big party, we unloaded the rest of the *** we had. The Daughter and her friends were swimming for about 2 hours before they noticed the *** floating in the pool.

The Fifth step took a lot longer to accompli***heir air conditioner was right on the other side of our fence.

You could get on your tiptoes and see the unit less than five feet away. Remember those nasty ice cubes? We started throwing them on top of their unit and they would melt and eventually made the house smell. Then, instead of fish in the cubes, we slowly replaced them with gravel and sand. The sand and gravel would rattle around at night causing them to not be able to sleep between the smell and the sound.

Finally, they called out an AC repairman who tried to fix it. The AC guy basically told them he had no idea how sand and gravel was in the unit but that it would eventually need to be replaced. The Smiths got suspicious and eventually put up cameras around their house. So we had to back off some.

Final part: We wanted to move to a different city by the time I was almost graduated from college so we were model citizens and just didn’t talk to them.

When our house did sell and we were moving out, I waited to check the mailbox until they were out in their front yard. I checked the mail and began my walk back home when they said something along the lines of “Glad to see you move” or “Good riddance.” I stopped to turn at them, made a show of smelling the air, and said, “Do you smell fish?” then smiled before walking back home. Their faces as they figured it out was priceless.

Don’t kill my dog. I’ll *** your *** up.” Tamufoiler

3. Wanna Be The Worst Roommate EVER? I’ll Hire The Secret Service To Get You

“I moved from Chicago to Baltimore to take a job with the Federal Government. When I started, I hit it off with a couple of guys, who’ve since become my best friends. We all lived together for about 5 years until one by one we started moving on, getting married, etc. One guy (we’ll call him Jon), left our place of employment to take a job as a Secret Service Agent.

As everyone went their separate ways I thought I’d make a smart decision as a young professional and buy a house….in 2007….right before the financial collapse. Needless to say, immediately after buying I was upside down big time and struggling. I had some other co-workers move in, but they only lasted about a year before abruptly moving out, leaving me scrambling to find a roommate, and thus setting the stage for my revenge story…

I ended up posting on a bunch of venues to find the new roommate.

One guy ended up far and above the best option (we’ll call him Russell). Russell was a military Vet, who had served a couple tours Down Range, and was now a sous-chef at a local restaurant. He was easy to get along with so I pulled the trigger in haste without doing the proper checks I should have, primarily due to being in a desperate financial situation.

The first sign something was off was when Russell moved in.

He came with just a couple of boxes and a TV…no bed, furniture, etc. The next clue came from in me chatting him up about his time in the military. On the surface he could talk the talk, but as I got more nuanced, his answers became more…well, wrong. He claimed to be a former Ranger, so he would have known the topics discussed. The final clue was the classic one..he started making excuses for rent payment on month 2.

By this time I knew something was not right, so I politely told Russell to move out, which he did immediately. Once gone, I went to Home Depot to buy new locks, and much to my surprise my debit card didn’t work. Come to find out, Russell had stolen a checkbook and cleaned me out. Every cent I had in my account was gone.

At this time I’m feeling a mixture of anger, fear of not being able to pay my mortgage, and disappointment in myself for not vetting him properly.

When I ended up telling Jon he was livid. He wanted every detail about the situation. Little did I know, Jon told all his co-workers and they immediately opened a case on Russell (for those of you who don’t know the Secret Service also deals with financial/economic crimes, albeit normally on a much larger scale than my savings account).

Within a few days, Secret Service Agents had tracked down and interrogated/arrested all the individuals who had cashed the fake checks on Russell’s behalf.

One turned and advised Russell would be at the ***** Last Resort at the Baltimore Inner Harbor that night. Jon and his crew changed into plain clothes and went there to wait. Lo and behold, Russell shows up and acts like he owns the place. He started announcing that he was leaving on a deployment to Iraq so he wanted to buy the entire bar drinks (with my money, I should add). As he was standing there paying for everyone’s drinks, Jon stood up and screamed “SECRET SERVICE, YOU’RE UNDER ARREST!” Three Agents slammed him down, cuffed him, and pulled him out where 2 black SUVs rolled up on the boardwalk to take him away.

My other friend who had gone to observe said the entire restaurant paused in stunned silence for about 30 seconds.

They take Russell in and by this time Jon says he’s bawling his eyes out. The best part of the ordeal, was Jon made him add in his written confession, “I routinely pretend to be an Army Ranger, but have never served.” Before being taken to the City jail, Russell asked Jon, “why did the Secret Service arrest me?” To which Jon replied, “You robbed the wrong guy.”

Epilogue: The bank ended up giving me all my money back very quickly under a fraud claim.

I ended up attending Russell’s court appearance with Jon, where he took a plea and spent 6 months behind bars. Needless to say, I was bit more careful in choosing my next roommate; we’ve been happily married for five years.” Kglee54

2. Try To Hold Back My Deposit? I’m Two Steps Ahead Of You

“I’m a lawyer, but I haven’t always been a lawyer, I was a law student once. And law students have all the arrogance of a lawyer, 1% of the knowledge, but 10x the reckless abandon.

Here’s how all that came together:

I moved to DC to do the last semester of my law schooling at Georgetown. I jumped in an apartment with 2 other people but never met the landlord. The people liked me and said I could move in, but they said the landlord had a review process that could take a few weeks (because he’s lazy and/or slow). They also mentioned he was a huge jerk, never fixed anything, hadn’t so much as mowed the grass in years, and hadn’t paid the light bill in the lobby for months so we had no porch lights.

Whatever, I thought, I needed a place. I asked them if they cared if I moved in that day, though, and they were fine with it.

I knew enough about the landlord-tenant law in DC to know that the tenant basically always wins, so long as they are paying and not destroying the property. We used to call it the “p*ssing on the walls” rules. So I moved in and just skipped the interview. I sent my first check to the landlord right away (a deposit) followed immediately by a month’s rent.

He deposited them as soon as he got them.
A week later or so he raises **** about me moving in without an interview, and threatens to kick me out. I kindly pointed out that he had accepted my deposit and rent payment, and therefore I was officially a tenant. If he wanted to kick me out, he would have to start the process in court (which is expensive and takes forever). He huffed and left me alone.

I quietly paid my rent for months and months. But, alas, all good things come to an end, and I had to move out eventually. I emailed the landlord for 2 months, then 1 month in advance of leaving. I let him know that he should come to inspect the property to make sure I had not caused any damage that would require my deposit, and that if not, I would like it back. I never heard from him.

The time eventually came that I was done living there, and moving out. I had everything packed and was ready to leave, then notified the landlord that I would like my deposit back. He said if I wanted it back, I could “start the process in court.”

I smiled. I already knew that was coming. Turns out, Mr. Landlord, those emails I sent you happen to correspond with the exact days and timing that I am required to give you in order to get my security deposit back.

Oh, by the way, that request to come to inspect the premises that you never replied to was also part of the process, and by not coming you have officially waived your inspection as of today (45 days later or something). Also, I happen to have already filled out the small claim for the return of a security deposit. Here’s your copy. I’m electronically filing this with the court today. Good luck!

About 10 days later I got a check in the mail.” Iredyreddit2319

1. Try To Cheat On My Exam? I’ll Subtly Mess With Your Head

“I teach part-time as an adjunct faculty at a business school.

I have a policy in many of the courses that I teach that if you do better on the final exam than on the midterm, your final exam grade replaces your midterm exam grade.

One semester some students decided to exploit this. Apparently, in an earlier semester, a student took photographs of his exam paper. (This is absolutely against the rules.) Somehow I didn’t discover it at the time. A student sent me an anonymous tip that my exam was compromised.

I was actually going to write a fully new exam for that section that semester, but I decided to test the student’s assertation.

I took the exam in question that was compromised, and I completely and subtly rewrote it. I made it so that it looked the same as the old exam. However, if you actually read it you’d see that the questions (or sometimes answers, on multiple-choice questions) were subtly changed, such that the correct answer would be very different.

Any student who wasn’t familiar with the old exam and wasn’t relying on it would do fine, because none of the wording was misleading or anything – it was just very misleading if you expected the previous exam to be that day’s exam.

The class average was a little lower than average, but most students did about as I would have expected. However, about seven students that clearly knew each other pretty well got very, very bad grades on the exam and failed it.

None failed the course, but all of them had their overall grade go down significantly.

I never heard a word of challenge from any of them. I’ve no idea if they figured out what I did, but I’m glad that the student gave me the tip. I now routinely do this, just in case. No idea if it’s helping, but an instructor has to keep his students on their toes!” PhotoJim99

Some people are just born to be inspired to pull off calculated revenge! After reading these stories, revenge is obviously a skill, or so it seems.

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